THE WAIF 


BY 

ELIZABETH B. GRIMBALL 




































































The Waif 

A Christmas Morality of the 
Twentieth Century 


by 

ELIZABETH B. GRIMBALL 

n 


Production rights protected 


THE WOMANS PRESS 

600 LEXINGTON AVENUE 

NEW YORK, N. Y. 

l 


7°A/ Lizo 
CsG 73 


Copyright, 1923, by 

National Board of the Young Womens Christian Association 
of the United States of America 

When this play is used, it is asked that acknowledgement be 
given to author and publisher. 


Printed in the United States of America 





'W© | 



THE PEOPLE OF THE PLAY 
in the order in which they appear 

The Waif —dressed in a ragged cloak and cap, over his 
Christmas suit. 

Greed —an old man, in rich cloak and cap of fur. 

Vanity —a lovely young woman, gayly dressed, with hand¬ 
some jewels. 

Sorrow —A woman, in sweeping gray draperies. 

Pleasure —a young man, in jester’s suit, with cap and 
bells. 

Faith— a young girl in symbolic white. 

Service —a young woman in the uniform of the Red Cross 
nurse, or any other service profession, such as a physi¬ 
cian. 

Mary, the Mother of Christ. 

The Three Kings from the East. 

In presenting the play, it is well to stage it so that the 
Vision will form a tableau in the center when the inner 
curtain goes back. The first part of the play takes 
place before this curtain, the Vision being ready behind 
it. An effective staging can be arranged by having a 
dim street light against a brown curtain. The Waif 
comes out of the shadows on one side and the various 
passers-by come from one entrance or the other, always 
in front of the curtain. However, if there is no possi¬ 
bility of any but the simplest staging, the inner curtain 
is all that is necessary. 


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The Vision is a tableau of the adoration of the Magi. It 
may be posed according to any of the well known pic¬ 
tures. In the center is a star, illumined. 

During the play a dance may be introduced for Pleasure, 
in character, also a song, any gay modern song, in dance 
time. 

Vanity should also sing, if possible, a song of which beauty 
is the theme. 

A chorus, not seen, should sing the hymn “It Came upon 
the Midnight Clear,” just before the curtains part on 
the Vision. 

If desired, tableaux may be shown for Pleasure and for 
Service. This is, however, not necessary, and if at¬ 
tempted should be well carried out, in a way not to 
destroy the atmosphere of the play. 

The costumes may be easily arranged without much ex¬ 
pense. 


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The Waif 

A Christmas Morality of the Twentieth Century 
by 

ELIZABETH B. GRIMBALL 

Place: The Street Corner of the World. 

Time : The Eve before Christmas. 

A dimly lighted strip of $tage represents a narrow street. 
At the back is a dark curtain. There must be enough 
light to show plainly the features of the Passers-by. The 
Waif creeps out of the shadows. 

The Waif {Wistfully) : 

I am the Christmas Spirit, once so fair, 

But I have lost my way; my falt’ring feet 
Are tired out, and oh, my hungry heart 
Is empty now. The hurrying throngs 
Do ever pass me by and know me not. 

There is no peace on earth, and little love 
Now warms the gloomy world in sorrow plunged. 

I cannot see the Golden Star that leads us on, 

Nor hear the Angels sing their song above. 

I’m doomed to wander lost forever, till 
I find a faithful heart to take me in 
And greet me once again the King of Love, 

The very heart of all the Christmas feast. 


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(His voice breaks in a sob . He walks on, and in his grief 
stumbles against Greed who is hurrying on muttering to 
himself . He carries a purse in which one hears the jingle 
of coins.) 

The Waif ( Stopping him with hands extended) : Oh, stop, 
sir! Can you tell me where to find the Golden Star? 

Greed : Gold, Gold! In shining heaps I pile my gold. Ah, 
I feast my eyes on it! 

Waif ( Joyfully ) : Then you have seen it? 

Greed ( Seeing him for the first time) : A beggar! No, no, 
it is not my way to help idlers. Work, work, my boy. 
That is the way to find gold. 

Waif : I do not want gold. It is the Golden Star I seek, and 
love— 

Greed ( Interrupting ) : Love, love? And what is that? 
Hate perhaps is here to-day—but love? It is so long 
since I have heard that word. There was a meaning, 
true, but I have forgotten. My greatest task is to get 
and gain and store and keep. 

Waif: To give and give to all the world. That was the 
message the angels brought so long ago. 

Greed : I do not remember such a message. To save and 
save, that is my way. Let me pass on. There is no 
time to linger here. While I talk I lose much gold. I 
have no time to gaze at stars. Life is but short and I 
cannot stop to talk of foolish things. 


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Waif : But, sir, love is not foolish. If you will only take my 
hand and look into my eyes, there will come back to you 
sweet memories of happy days when— 

Greed (Impatiently ) : I do not remember such days. Off 
with you! I know your game. You’ll get nothing from 
me by such methods—! 

Waif : Oh, you do not understand! 

Greed : I do, indeed! On every hand I am beset by beggars, 
but I will keep my gold. ( He goes off into the shadows , 
muttering) —Gold, gold, gold! 

Waif (Looking after him): Greed, greed, greed! That 
should be his song. 

(He turns sadly away hut is stopped by a beautiful lady 
who enters . She is singing while she looks into a hand 
mirror. She does not see the Waif. He draws into the 
corner and speaks to himself .) 

Waif : Oh, surely, in her heart this pretty lady has a place 
for me! I will go to her so gently that she must stop 
and take my hand. (He goes near and bows , looking at 
her admiringly.) Stop, lady fair, and look at me just 
for one little moment. 

Vanity (Peering around her mirror) : Who spoke? 

Waif : Let me go with you. 

Vanity (Smiling) : I am on my way to a feast. 

Waif: Ah, take me, too! I can make you such a joyful 
feast. 


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Vanity ( Looking more closely) : A feast—you? Who are 
you? 

Waif: I was once the spirit of all joy—he who was called 
the Christmas Spirit! 

Vanity : A boy! In rags, and begging, too! 

Waif : No, no, I do not beg. I have lost my way and can¬ 
not find the hearts who loved me long ago! 

Vanity ( Distastefully ) : No one loves a boy in tatters. 
The feast which I attend is the Feast of Beauty—beauty 
shining everywhere! 

Waif : Perhaps I shall find the Golden Star there. Oh, do 
you think it is there? 

Vanity: I know not, child. My eyes outshine the stars. 
Oh, often have they told me so! 

Waif : Yes, your eyes are shining now. 

Vanity: Long hours I sit before my mirror and watch my 
beauty grow. Do you not think me beautiful? 

Waif : Yes, yes, and in your heart, surely there must be a 
place for me. You look kind. Come with me. Perhaps 
your shining eyes so like the stars will see the Golden 
Star. 

Vanity ( Pushing him away) : No, no, I must not stay. My 
beauty soon will wither like the flowers, and the throngs 
that follow now will pass me by. 

Waif: Lady, if you will only be kind, your beauty will 
never fade. 


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Vanity : My child, no one cares to see those whom age has 
touched with blight. 

Waif : Please, lady, please! 

Vanity : You must not keep me. You are sad and lonely— 
and ( She shudders ) I cannot endure loneliness. 

Waif ( Crying ) : But, lady— 

Vanity ( Kindly ) : There, there! ( Taking his face in her 
hand) You are a pretty boy! Perhaps if you could find 
a better cloak—but no, I cannot wait—my beauty will 
not last if I tarry! 

( She hurries on while the Waif says to himself) : If she 
would only look longer into my eyes, she’d find the spirit 
that no age can touch. Oh, the world is dark. Will no 
one lead me on my way ? 

(As he speaks , a woman comes in slowly. She is Sorrow. 
She moans and wrings her hands.) 

Sorrow : Woe, woe, woe! 

Waif: Ah, she is so sad—I must comfort her. 

Sorrow: Woe, woe is me! 

Waif (Going nearer) : Stay! I cannot bear to see you 
suffer so. I know that I can make you glad once more. 

Sorrow: What eager child is this that bars my way? 

Waif : ’Tis I, ’tis Hungry Heart. I can dry all your tears 
if you will only take me into your heart. 

Sorrow: I have no heart. Only grief is there. 


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Waif : But grief and love go hand in hand. 

Sorrow : Such grief as this I bear is past all grief beside. 

Waif ( Pityingly ) : Ah, let me help you! 

Sorrow: You cannot understand. No human hand or 
voice can bring relief. 

Waif: But if you believe in love, and trust me, I can all 
your grief allay. 

Sorrow : Ah, child, I am the broken heart of all the earth, 
the woman-heart once filled with tender mirth to see 
my sons go forth to play the game of life. But now, 
alas, they slay and kill in murderous strife. There is no 
joy in this dark world. 

Waif: Take my hand. I am the spirit of the Feast of 
Friends, where Love reigns King. 

Sorrow : Oh, no, not Love but Death is King to-day. 

Waif: Yet there is comfort. 

Sorrow : No, there is no comfort now for me. There can 
never be. ( Going ) Woe, woe, woe! 

(She pulls away from the Waif and goes into the shadows , 
moaning . The Waif runs a few steps after her and 
collides with a young man who comes in singing a rollick¬ 
ing song . He dances a few steps .) 

Waif : O pardon me, sir, I did not see you. The lady who 
has just gone made me weep, her sorrow was so great. 
My tears blinded me. 


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Pleasure ( Good-humoredly ) : Well, well, that is too bad. 
No harm done. But, ( Putting his hand on the Waif’s 
shoulder) out of my way! The feast awaits and I am 
the King— 

Waif ( Interrupting ) : The feast? Why, I was once King 
of a Feast. 

Pleasure ( Laughing ) : The feast of rags and tatters most 
like,—but come along and see a real feast. No sad tales, 
though. My guests do not like solemn faces. All must 
be gay and bright. 

Waif : Oh, I should like to go. 

Pleasure : But you must change your clothes. 

Waif : I have no more. I lost them all when I lost my way. 

Pleasure : Oh, so you have lost your way and your clothes, 
careless boy! And now what else have you lost ? 

Waif : Oh, sir, I seek a Golden Star. Have you .seen it? 

Pleasure: A star? Ho, ho! Why, of course there are 
stars if one has time to gaze at them but give me the 
lights within my palace halls—( Rubbing his hands and 
dancing a -few steps) Ah, how they shine! And how I 
love them! 

Waif: Oh, love me, too! Love for each other is greater 
than love for bright lights, and love— 

Pleasure : Love! Ha, ha! Why, who are you that you do 
not know there is no such thing to-day ? Pleasure is the 
King of the world, and I am Pleasure! All wait to 
welcome me. 


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Waif: And I am Hungry Heart. I seek a heart to take 
me in. 0 take me in your heart. 

Pleasure : I cannot tarry, boy. My friends await. 

Waif: And am I not your friend? I was of yore the 
Christmas Spirit bright. I know I would be the King 
of your great feast if you would let me in— 

Pleasure ( Laughing ) : There is no room for beggars in 
my palace. My guests would laugh at you. They are 
so rich and fair. ( The Waif weeps.) But do not cry. 
Wait outside the gates; if I do not forget I’ll send you 
some crumbs from the feast. 

{He goes , singing his song.) 

Waif: Alas, can no one help me find a heart to love me, 
and is there none left in the world who remembers me 
or the Holy Star? 

{He shrinks into the shadow and weeps. Faith enters. 
She is sad and walks with drooping head and stumbling 
feet.) 

Faith : Oh, I am weary, weary. The way grows dark and 
steep. There is no friendly face. The world is filled 
with noise and terror. None listens to my songs. {She 
looks about.) But it seems quiet here. Perhaps if I 
call loudly some kind soul will heed me. {She holds out 
her hands pleadingly.) Is there not some one in this 
cruel world who will hear my story ? 

Waif {Comes forward eagerly) : Poor child, and are you 
lost, too? 


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Faith (Peering at him) : I do not know. It is so dark, 
and I am weary. 

Waif : Ah, I am weary, too. I seek someone to lead me on 
my way. What is your name? 

Faith: Faith is the name I bore, just simple Faith, but 
now they call me Faith the Wanderer. You seem so 
kind, perhaps you will help me. I feel that I can speak 
to you. 

Waif : I feel that you have a tender heart, but I, too, have 
lost my way. 

Faith ( Mournfully ) : And I hoped you would help me find 
the Star. 

Waif : The Star? Why* I, too, seek a Star—but all tell me 
there is no Star and none will tarry long to hear my 
story. 

Faith: But I believe. I know the Holy Star still shines 
above the birthplace of God’s great Love. 

Waif : 0 little maid, do you not think that if we fare hand 
in hand along the way, we can make the world believe 
again ? 

Faith : They will not listen. The sound of marching death 
drowns out my voice. The cries of broken hearts rise 
far above your plea. 

Waif : But yet must we try, for unless there is a heart still 
left with room for me, the Christmas Spirit, I shall 
perish from the earth. Come, we will seek together. 

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(As they go along a few steps they see a figure coming , a 
woman who walks as with a strong purpose although her 
face is serious . The children go near.) 

Waif: See, who is this? She looks so strong. Perhaps 
she can help us. Speak to her, Faith. 

Faith ( Timidly ) : Oh, stop a moment—we are lost— 

Service : Lost. (Looking at them) Poor waifs ! Who are 
you ? Where are you going ? 

Waif : We are the Spirits who once brought comfort and 
good cheer to all the suffering world, but we are for¬ 
gotten. Can you wait? 

Service : Ah, yes—I can always wait if I can serve. But 
there is so much to do. Listen, do you not hear? . . . . 

Faith (Shrinking) : O no, I cannot listen for there is the 
cry of pain— 

Service : Yes, there is pain and I must hasten for they need 
the ministering of Service. 

Waif : Let me go, too. They must need my love. 

Faith : And my peace. 

Service (Looking closely at them) : Who are you? Love 
and Peace, you say. No, no; Courage, Strength, and 
Sorrow, but not love. Listen! How they suffer. I must 
go on. 

Waif : But such suffering is born of much love—I know. 

Faith : Ah, take us ! take us, too! I feel that Service will 
lead us to the Star. 


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Waif : The Holy Star. 

Service: The Christmas Starl But there is no peace to 
make a Christmas Feast. We must serve. 

Faith : He served—Who died so long ago. Oh, come back 
with us to find the Star to-day! 

Waif: The Star of Love, O Service; love for the world 
and love for God. 

Service (Holding out her arms ) : O little waifs—I love 
you. Let me go with you. Let us find the Star and 
bring the message of Christ’s love to the world again. 

{The three go along into the shadows, leaving the stage 
empty. Softly, as at a distance, one hears a song of 
Christmas. Slowly the inner curtains part to show the 
Vision. The three wanderers come back.) 

Faith : The Star! 

Waif: The Christmas Star! 

Service : The Gift of Love! 

(They kneel and the curtains slowly cover the Vision .) 

Above the tableau there must be a Star, illuminated if 
possible. 

When the curtains are closed the Waif steps forth. He is 
all in red and white, the Christmas colors. He carries 
an armful of gifts which he gives to Service. Then 
he comes forward. 


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The Waif : 

Come, gentles all, rejoice with me to-night! 

I that was lost, and wandered lonely here 
With none to love and none to take my hand 
And lead me to the feast, where once of yore 
I was the Prince of all the joy and cheer— 

By Faith have come into my own again, 

And Service unto God and man I give. 

Oh, join with me, and kneel once more, my friends, 

At Mary’s feet and offer to the Holy Babe 
Your gifts of Love and Faith and Worship here. 

Then, then, your hearts will overflow with grace, 

For into each I’ve crept to make you glad 

That Faith and Service found the Golden Star 

And led the Christmas Spirit back into the hearts of men! 


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THE WOMANS PRESS 
600 LEXINGTON AVENUE 
NEW YORK, N. Y. 




